


In the Depths of the Holy Tomb

by brooklynapple



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Rough Oral Sex, defiling the Holy Tomb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:29:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28419897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brooklynapple/pseuds/brooklynapple
Summary: Metodey and Acheron set off fireworks in Garreg Mach as a distraction so they can fuck in the Holy Tomb. Happy New Year!
Relationships: Acheron/Metodey (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 1





	In the Depths of the Holy Tomb

**Author's Note:**

  * For [purple_bookcover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_bookcover/gifts).



> A year ago this week, I met purple_bookcover when they offered to write New Year's mini-fics for anyone who wanted one. I requested Marihilda, and they wrote a [sweet and adorable story](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21830032/chapters/52709422). I could have written purple something nice to mark the occasion, but instead I wrote this for them. I'm sorry. 
> 
> If you're reading this because you enjoy the blend of smut and feelings that I normally bring to my fic, you may want to back slowly away now. There's nothing but bumbling, dysfunctional ratfuckers ahead. 
> 
> If you're reading this because you're a Metacheron fan, then you deserve everything you're about to get. You've all been warned.

“Are the preparations complete?” Metodey demanded. 

Acheron cringed inwardly at the sound of Metodey’s harsh voice as he arrived at their meeting place in an out-of-the-way corridor at Garreg Mach. He was grateful to be at the center of Metodey’s attention for once, but a tiny part of him wished that Metodey could at least say hello first. The other parts of him knew that Metodey wouldn’t be the same man Acheron had come to love and fear if he suddenly started being polite.

Acheron glanced up and down the corridor to make sure no one was within earshot. “All is ready. We can begin on your signal.” He eagerly scanned Metodey’s face for the barest hint of approval, knowing all the while he sought in vain.

Sure enough, Metodey’s expression remained impassive. “Then do it. I don’t have all day.” He crossed his arms and began tapping one finger impatiently.

Acheron nervously fished around in the bag he carried and produced a small magic device, which he activated after a few seconds of fumbling. Almost immediately he heard loud bangs and pops from the other side of the monastery, accompanied by a rising plume of smoke. He breathed a sigh of relief. 

“It worked! Thank the Goddess. But I still don’t understand - how did you know they would have so many fireworks on hand, and where they would be stored?”

Metodey gave him that look again, the one that made Acheron’s knees go weak. The same look he might have given an exceptionally dull child.

“Tonight is the New Year’s Festival, you idiot. Surely even you can’t have failed to notice that they set off fireworks to mark the occasion every single year? And they hardly make a secret of where they store them - it hasn’t occurred to them that anyone might want to steal them. Now set off the second set. Do it!”

Acheron quickly activated the device again and glanced over at Metodey. A bulge had started to form in his pants, growing rapidly as the chaos increased and people began shouting and screaming. Nothing seemed to get Metodey hard faster than explosions, fear and panic. Acheron had always done his best to avoid thinking too much about why that was.

Metodey saw where Acheron’s eyes had landed and smiled a slow, wicked smile. “It is time,” he said. “Come with me.” The command in his voice made Acheron shiver.

Metodey led them along little-used passages until they arrived in front of a large, ornate and unguarded door. Acheron had never noticed this door before, or seen anyone use it, but it swung open easily when Metodey pushed on the well-worn wood and steel. On the other side of the door was a set of dark stairs leading down into musty-smelling darkness.

Acheron yelped as Metodey gave him a small shove towards the stairs. “You first. Go on. You did bring that torch I asked for, yes?”

Once again Acheron fumbled in his bag, this time for torch, flint and steel. It took him a few tries to light the torch since his hands had started to shake, but at last he was able to use its flickering flame to descend into the murky blackness. He wasn’t sure which made him more nervous - the dank, menacing stairwell ahead of him, or the thought of Metodey close behind him.

After a brief descent they emerged into a long, cavernous room lined with decrepit caskets on both sides and a large, ancient stone throne at the front. Acheron gasped. 

“Is this what I think it is?” His awe-filled voice echoed off of the stone walls. “Can this truly be the Holy Tomb of the Goddess herself?”

Metodey laughed, an unkind sound, and began to walk toward the throne. “At last,” he said triumphantly, “we are alone in the one spot in this monastery that best reflects our true feelings for each other.” He ascended the dais, sat on the throne with splayed legs, and started to unlace his pants.

“The holy room where the Goddess once sat and bestowed her blessings on the people?” Acheron asked reverently.

Metodey beckoned to him and grinned in a way that Acheron did not find entirely reassuring. “No, you fool.” He drew his dripping cock from his trousers and pushed Acheron to his knees. “A dank, dark hole in the ground full of rats, moldering bones, and a long-dead myth that brings nothing but disappointment to those that believe in it. Now get to work.”

Acheron gasped as Metodey grabbed the back of his head and thrust his cock into his mouth. He started to suck vigorously and told himself this was what he had wanted all along, some special alone time with this man who made him feel things he still couldn’t fully explain. As Metodey’s panting and grunting mixed with the faint, lingering shouts and explosions from outside, Acheron did his best to banish a nagging feeling of disappointment. 

The feeling grew when Metodey roughly withdrew from Acheron’s mouth and stood up, bending Acheron over the throne and yanking down his pants. “Did you bring the oil?” he growled.

Acheron fumbled in his bag for the third time that day, trying not to stumble with his pants around his ankles. He handed the small vial to Metodey and was shoved back down over the throne. He groaned as he felt Metodey push himself inside, none too gently.

Surely this must be what he wanted, this mixture of shame, arousal and disappointment that he felt every time he was with this man. And the fact that Metodey cared enough to bring him here, to take him in this most holy of places, made it even more special. 

Metodey grunted and increased his pace, pounding Acheron into the cold, unyielding stone. Acheron could tell he was close, and felt a matching pressure build inside his own loins. He reached down to start stroking himself in time with Metodey’s thrusts.

“When you finish,” Metodey growled, “take care not to get any on me.” He gave a few more rough thrusts before burying himself to the hilt to finish inside Acheron’s quivering depths. 

Acheron let out a squeaky cry and found his own release, spilling his seed all over the Goddess’s throne. He took a few seconds to compose himself, pull up his pants, and debate whether to clean up his mess or leave it. 

He turned to ask Metodey what to do and discovered that the rat-faced man was already halfway across the room, heading towards the exit. Metodey paused for just a moment and turned to look over his shoulder.

“Don’t linger there too long - they’re bound to ask questions if you turn up missing. And it’s best if you stay out of my sight for a few days. It will be easier to avoid suspicion if we’re not seen together.” He smirked. “I suppose I’ve had worse beginnings to the year, but I’ve certainly had better ones.”

Then he turned around and left without another backward glance. The room plunged into darkness, and Acheron realized with a start that Metodey had taken the torch with him.

Night was falling by the time Acheron managed to make his way out of the pitch-black sepulcher. The commotion from the fireworks had long since subsided. He made his way to his quarters in shame, much like the last few times he had spent with Metodey. Perhaps next time it would be different. And until then, he would always have his memories of their time in the Holy Tomb.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m truly sorry that I did this to you all. If you’ve somehow made it this far without fleeing in horror, you can also find me on Twitter where I go by [@quorniya](https://twitter.com/quorniya).


End file.
